


Rampancy

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Triverse [17]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drama, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU/Crossover. The more things change...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another in-between drabble, takes place after _Trifecta_ (spoiler warnings will cease from this story, onward) and it’s assorted oneshots. This is the farthest ahead we've gone on this given timeline. But insofar as the introduction of Puck goes, we hinted at it in _Combustible_.
> 
> She isn’t an OC. There is a German Shepherd in _Castle Rock_ , and it works out for the sake of a crossover pairing.
> 
> Tags to be updated as soon as part two is up.

Holofish were little more than a modern day gimmick. Programmed with only a mere ten basic stimulus-driven responses, once enabled, they did little more than flit about - midair - anywhere within a three foot radius of the app-running device. Any number of species, extant and not, were available for selection. These could be replicated in their naturally-occurring colors, or any wild neon configuration the wielder desired.

Indisposed on the living room sofa as he was (once again, not daring to climb the attic ladder, lest he make an embarrassment of it), Connor supposed the virtual gourami was both a mild, bittersweet annoyance and a welcome distraction from feeling depleted. Even after a few hours of recharge, he felt as shot and used-up as when he first lay down.

In hindsight, perhaps he hadn’t needed to pull that all-nighter. But stasis set in easier knowing there was a fully-stocked dossier forwarded to the prosecuting attorney. That indictment was as good as guaranteed. Mission accomplished.

Then he woke up to a fake, half-transparent fish pecking at his LED - as being attracted to shiny objects was one of those ten preset behaviors it didn’t know how to ignore. It’s AI was too simple to consider the option. Like a moth drawn to a flame, it was inherently magnetic toward any source of light.

Swatting at it was fairly redundant, so he didn’t try. He closed his eyes to somehow ward off the glowing orange/blue blur.

“Connor… are you up?” A voice said, easily identifiable as being Nick. A hand ghosted onto his shoulder, giving it a brief shake, before removing itself. “Did you see the fish? Did they wake you up?”

_Affirmative._

All three questions neatly answered by one word. Perhaps that would be hint enough to indicate his lack of wanting conversation beyond what was necessary.

Connor was more a fan of the soft, cushy throw pillow under his cheek than anything else at the moment. His chronometer didn’t indicate any pressing appointment times or meetings to jump and get to. And Nick knew from experience just how rare it was he went into sleep mode willingly.

Holofish. Couldn’t he see he was busy?

There was the sound of Nick taking a step back from him, but no more than one - obviously still lingering beside him, practically over him. “Did you… like them? How do you feel now?”

With a quiet exhale that couldn’t quite be dubbed a sigh, Connor opened one eye. Halfway, and he wouldn’t have to suffer another annoying _low power_ alert plastering itself across his HUD.

“It’s charming enough, Nick, but as you can see, I don’t have energy enough to feel that excited by it. Was there anything else?”

“No… I just wanted to talk to you.” Nick was half bent down in front of him, but still tall enough to be looking over him, arms folding as he pouted down at Connor. “And show you the fish. Dad said we can't get too many pets, but the fake fish are fine.”

Dad, said so casually - as if he had never called Hank anything else. Yet another social relations aspect he had always been ahead of his partners on.

With a half-hearted eyeroll, another mannerism that took blessedly little power to perform, Connor stared sidelong at the close-up stitching beside his cheek. It was almost mocking at so close a vantage point - _look, here’s a nice place to lay your weary head, and nothing else, tee hee! He’ll make sure of that._

That metaphorical voice was irritatingly gleeful in its nonexistent delivery.

“A promise of Saint Shepherd puppies isn’t enough? You have to go and invent animals out of electrons?”

“I'm sick of waiting for them, it makes me nervous of how long it'll take. And I miss the koi, but we can't have any, so…” Nick gestured around to the holofish still swimming around in the air, before grinning at them. “And now you can actually interact with them, instead of just watch!”

Spurred by those words, the virtual gourami wheeled around, tracing a path along the couch’s armrest, across the backrest, then down the opposite end. Impressive range for what was (honestly) a basic freebie of an entertainment app.

“Then perhaps I’ll install it for myself, later, but if - Hank said no pets, that doesn’t mean we should go spending his money on upgrades to such gimmicky programs, either.”

There, that satisfied his impulse to lecture quite nicely.

“Less expensive than actual fish, you don't have to feed them or anything,” Nick protested, but pouted all the same. He never did take well to being chided over anything. “But… okay. Just this one thing.”

“Good. It means more to spare for dog food.”

And other as-yet-undisclosed expenses. For the moment, Connor chose to think on the promise of a healthy litter of puppies over the hypothetical bills his replacement components would one day add up to. Puppies beat that by a wide margin.

“How many do you think they'll be? I hope there's one for all three of us.” Nick's mood switched immediately to excitement at the mention of the puppies again, unable to hold it in from the way his hands began to wring. “I wonder what they'll look like - how big do you think they'll be?”

Again with the insatiable questions.

“Two large breed dogs, what do you think?” Connor almost sighed. It would have been easy enough to tap a network and research. But then there wouldn’t be as much natural conversation to enjoy. “Assuming Puck hasn’t had any before… I don’t know, five? Six?”

“Six. Then we could find good homes for some of them, and still see them. Wouldn't that be fun?” Grinning at him, Nick looked very pleased with the thought of so many puppies running about in the near future, before it faded, just a bit. “Hey, Connor… can I tell you something?”

 _It’s never stopped you before._ Despite the sardonic words, Connor made an effort to sit up. Whatever the subject, he got the impression it wasn’t something to hear lying down. It deserved more than an average measure of attention. “What?”

“I - I just wanted to tell you, I guess. I keep having these… moments, where I remember something. From the cage, with Lacy,” he admitted, hands still fidgeting - albeit, now with nervousness instead of excitement. “Random things seem to make them happen, just… I remember what I was supposed to be now, and some other… weird stuff.”

The common term for that phenomenon was flashbacks. And presumably, these were of a different format than their recent misadventures in matters of social revolution.

Sighing, Connor leaned back against the cushions. “Define ‘weird stuff’, please. I can’t know what that quantifies if I don’t know the context.”

Tiresome as it would be to run his processor that much longer, he could handle this much. Nick wouldn’t be trying to confide in him if he didn’t think it would help him get somewhere.

“I dunno, just - pictures, he used to take pictures, run diagnostics, and just pull random information like that.” Nick hesitated for a moment, averting his eyes, before shrugging. “I used to… look different, I think.”

Well, if that were in fact the case, it would explain his constant state of seeming uncomfortable inside his own -

“Skin.” Blinking, remembering what hazy details there were on Intelligents models, Connor frowned. It didn’t bear saying out loud - that his partners would have had to be skinned and retooled to boast the same tactile interfaces they currently had. “CyberLife would’ve… had to, if Lacy didn’t.”

“They probably did, even just a… second time, with me. And Dennis - ” Nick waved a hand towards the attic entrance, wincing as he did so. “I'm just glad we don't remember that, either of those times. Just… I wanted to tell you, I dunno.”

“I didn’t already know, if that’s what you really wondered,” Connor admitted, with a dubious glance at his own hand. How many times had they exchanged data and were none the wiser of so much?

Just like CyberLife intended.

“But… the time since that, before you met me… you don’t remember anything?”

Nick shook his head with a frown, brows furrowed together as if he were trying to recall anything. “No, it's just the memories of Lacy and the cage, really. It's only been a few times, but it's always random things that trigger it, because it's just - it was a long time. He talked about a lot of stuff.”

Stuff - what a horribly vague word.

Brow furrowing, Connor folded his arms across his chest. “Has anything I’ve ever said brought it on?”

“No, no, it was - only twice, at the station, when Chris brought Amy. Those were the clearest times, when Dennis mentioned a doctor, and then a camera… it's really random. Little flashes.” Nick shook his head, almost looking distressed at the randomness of it all - how would he be able to tell just what was going to trigger him, if he didn't even know his own past? Once again, Kamski had told the everything and nothing. “Just… I guess, I wanted to warn you. If it ever happens in front of you.”

“I’ll ask Dennis what it looked like later.” Unable to pour any real annoyance into the words, or acknowledge frustration with the lack of information, Connor shut his eyes. He wanted to understand, but not more than he simply wanted peace and quiet. Daily life was so stressful, without a framework to contain it, and it was tiring to try and keep up with - never mind Nick’s compulsive wish to suddenly dredge up the past. “I wouldn’t advise you let anyone scan you for the time being, either.”

Who knew if just the wrong file was copied to another drive?

“Okay, I won't.” Nick shuffled a bit further away, evident from the sounds his feet were making against the carpet. “Are you going back to - sleep now?”

Sleep, stasis, same thing, really.

“First time I’ve actually wanted to,” Connor admitted, playing it off as nonchalance, and hopefully it would succeed. “Is that a problem?”

They could talk later. There would be time to play with holofish later. This encounter had proven both things were possible.

“No, you should sleep. I'll be quiet for you.”

How considerate of him. Not as though one couldn’t simply disable their audio processors to -

The steps approached again, followed by a nearby ruffle of fabric. A soft gust of air later, and a blanket was draped over his lower half.

Eyes still shut, Connor mustered up an ironic half-smile. The old him would have said as much. He didn’t need to now. There was only one thing to be at the moment: grateful.

“Thank you.”

He could nap easy. The problem wasn’t going anywhere. He could standby for now, think on it with a cooled-off head. Forcing himself to now would do more harm than good, just as becoming instantly frustrated with the initial lack of data.

It was only preliminary evidence, after all.

——-

Hank had been exaggerating when he described the former neighborhood mutt as a wild, unsocialized bitch who would just as soon bite as run away.

He had his reasons. At the time, even mentioning it to the RKs would have inevitably led to this. Their situation was by no means settled. Taking in one more mouth to feed was an expense the policeman didn’t care to adopt. Besides basic necessities, the androids he eventually welcomed under his roof wouldn’t require daily food and upkeep. They could take care of themselves just as the German Shepherd once could.

Then she started hanging out in the backyard, optioning Sumo’s doghouse as protection from the elements. One thing led to another, and now she was spending her nights in the warm, cozy confines of the home’s drive-in garage.

By adopting, Hank had inadvertently acquired three able-bodied dogwalkers, besides. It all had worked out.

So far.

——-

“Sumo, _heel_ \- agh!”

Not for the first (or last) time, the Saint Bernard gave a tremendous pull on his leash and sent Dennis stumbling across a dirty, waist-high snowbank running parallel to the sidewalk.

Spontaneous off-roading was one of the canine’s favorite pastimes.

Slowing down, but not stopping with Puck, Nick stifled some laughter as he turned his head to watch Dennis. Even if none of them could really control Sumo, it was probably for the best that Dennis took him. Even pregnant, the German shepherd was a lot easier to guide.

“You okay, Dennis?”

“Does it _look_ like - Sumo, please, stop. Umph!”

So went Dennis’ answer as the giant dog promptly ran him twice around the nearest oak tree, stopping only to sniff at its base. Barely managing to keep pace, and probably ruing the fact the leash he held was of a non-retracting variety, Dennis tripped over Sumo’s hind legs to crash sideways in the snow.

Looking on, Puck only tilted her head at the spectacle before scratching and sniffing at the snowdrift for herself.

“Crazy mutt,” Dennis mumbled, lying half-sprawled where he fell, blue eyes glaring out from under the edge of his cap. “Cabin fever cannot already be that bad.”

“Aw, Den.” Making his way over, as much as Puck would let him before having to drag her, Nick leaned over Dennis and offered his hand. “You need some help? Sumo's just a big baby, can't help he's excited.”

“To go for a walk, of all things.” Grabbing on, he let himself be pulled to his feet, brushing off a new coat of snowflakes as he did. “Dibs on Puck for the next one.”

Dibs.

There was one honor system that had never quite gone out of fashion. And it had its appeal to three deviant machines who were effectively without any other hierarchy to size one another up with. Even something as basic as age was made complicated in their case.

By one virtue or another, Dennis had always seemed like the oldest of them.

“...Fine.” Nick grumbled, but without any real anger or disappointment about it. Sumo was fun, but he definitely dragged them around when he felt like it - which was almost every other walk. They all had yet to find a hierarchy there that gelled.

Puck, for her part, was the best-behaved. Pawing through the snow, sniffing as if she had caught a whiff of something hidden, she kept her nose to the ground, ears quirked forward.

“And if there’s garbage buried here to eat, don’t let her.” Dennis muttered, turning his coat collar up against the wind. “Last thing Hank needs is her getting sick in the house.”

“Or the babies getting hurt. Would they get hurt if she ate trash?” Nick's brows furrowed, before he gently tugged on the leash once, trying to see if Puck would follow the thought to stop, or continue. “We're gonna need to get puppy stuff soon, too. To be all ready for them.”

Collar jingling, Puck’s ears - one of them a half-tattered remnant of itself - went back at the tug. With one more scratch-and-sniff she sidestepped back toward them a few paces, then promptly sat down. She had been spending less and less time on her feet in the past week.

“I’m sure Connor would be happy to delegate you that duty. While we’re busy at the station, you can dogsit.”

Illustrating the point, Sumo half-circled the elm once more, as if seeking a moment of privacy, then lifted his leg.

Crouching over Puck, Nick bit his lip as he began to pet her, rubbing behind the base of her ears the way Sumo liked as well. The cranial massage, as Anderson had dubbed it. “I can… come with you, if you want, sorry. Just been with Markus and North a lot lately. Do you want me to?”

At that, Dennis didn’t bother to hide an exasperated eyeroll. “It’s not that we do or don’t want you to, Nick. The station is all business right now. They won’t be able to just let you kill time at a computer anymore.”

“Markus and North have been helping me with the whole bodyguard thing, I thought I might be more useful if I learned that stuff.” Nick explained, even without being asked for an explanation, hands momentarily slowing their motions. “I dunno, maybe not.”

“Getting over the whole self-doubt thing would be a start. You used to be a medical model. But with those hands, you’d just as soon stab a thirium line as parse one.”

“I'm working on it,” he muttered, glaring down at his own hands for a moment, as if they were a separate entity, instead of himself. “Just - takes time. Maybe soon, but I don't really know how to be a medical android.”

Shaking his head, Dennis gave the leash an idle tug. Sumo didn’t budge.

“You sound as directionless as a cork in the ocean.”

“I… guess so. I dunno, I don't think just trying to do what you and Connor do is so bad for now.” Looking up at him, Nick shrugged, before standing up. “I'm not sure of what else I would try.”

“Then maybe you should stick to dogsitting,” Dennis retorted, sounding only more unimpressed with his lackluster reasoning. “It sounds like you’d be the most help there.”

“Fine, I will. I can take care of them today.”

Turning her head, probably wondering why the scratching had stopped, Puck gave a whine.

It had a mildly sympathetic ring to it.

——-

Maybe dogsitting was supposed to be sort of demeaning, or maybe that was just Nick framing it that way - while his brothers went and worked at the police station, helping their people gain rights and protecting them, he stayed at home and watched the dogs.

Really, though, Dennis was right. Stick with something he could actually do, someone he could actually take care of. Sure, he used to be a medical model, but that didn't mean the knowledge became available to him upon figuring this out. Maybe it would come back if faced with a situation in which he would need it, but for now, Nick didn't really have anything he was skilled at.

Except dogsitting, maybe.

It was calming at least, to just be able to sit on the floor with Sumo and Puck, one of their heads resting on his legs, as he put something on television - or _Blue Planet_ , if he was being honest. He would get up to feed them, let them outside when they needed to do so, and wait for the others to come home. 

Easy enough a job.

Sumo only pined for the occasional back scratch besides. He spent most of his downtime snoozing in front of the radiator or TV.

Except when Puck decided it was time to be a little nuisance, things only got so rowdy. Hank had estimated she was at least two years old, much younger compared to her ‘mate’, and still the mental equivalent of a puppy in an adult-sized dog. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t bear puppies herself.

At the moment, she was acting her mental age - pawing and nosing at Sumo’s muzzle, ears back, tail wagging. Apparently he was being too lazy for her liking. Not that it wasn’t justified by a long walk or anything.

“Puck, don't bother him,” Nick said, glancing away from the television to pat the ground next to him, trying to invite her over. She listened half the time, at least. “He's trying to sleep, come over here.”

Ears up, she tried for one last paw and whine, lying down flush against the carpet to be on the same level. As that failed to rouse him beyond an annoyed groan, she darted after the next nearest discarded toy - a tug rope.

“Come here, if you wanna play.” He pat the ground again, getting onto his knees instead to grab at it if she wanted. “He's not gonna play with you.”

Undissuaded, age be damned, she gnawed at the tight weave, teeth bared in a playful growl, one paw placed possessively over the free end.

_Mine._

Giving a quick swipe, Nick grabbed the other end from under her paw, giving it a shake and shuffling backwards a bit. It was definitely much more enthusiastic to play tug of war with Puck than Sumo, even with her being pregnant.

“Rrrr… rr-rrr-grrr.” Bite secure, she let herself be tugged a few inches before digging in, leaning back, sprawling onto her side. Sumo’s idea of how to play tug-of-war wasn’t too different than hers. Her nails stuck in the fibers of the carpet, giving the advantage of an anchor over mass.

Thankfully Anderson wasn’t too precious about the state of said rug.

Settling back down to sit, Nick gave it enough tug, half trying to focus on Puck's stomach. How far along was she now, a month? Soon it would be even more obvious than before that she was pregnant, maybe even… she could be far along enough for him to hear the puppies’ heartbeats.

It wouldn’t be too difficult. The android hearing spectrum was many times that of a human’s.

Puck interrupted with a growl, biting at the rope with renewed interest.

_Game. Focus on the game._

Acting as if nothing was different. Pregnancy was such an alien concept. Did she not have any concept of what she was in for? Who would teach her how to care for her litter?

Nick yanked the rope again, shaking it a bit loose from her, but not hard enough to pull it away. Even if she didn't play gentle, he could at least try and keep their game calmer, not overexert her. Maybe if he listened hard enough, he could even try and tell how many puppies she would have - that was something everyone wanted to know, right?

It might not be on par with a murder investigation, but it was a mystery that needed solving all the same. How much would Hank’s budget have to suffer to accommodate the new arrivals?

Questions, questions. Small wonder why his brothers sometimes tired of answering him so constantly.

Therein lay another bonus of hanging out with dogs. They never got conversation fatigue.

Reaching forward, Puck tried to pin the rope down between them, eyes acute and accusing all in one glance.

_Too easy?_

Giving an affectionate sigh, Nick tugged back again, backing up until he was almost hitting the couch. Soon she would just be able to grab it back from him, unless he climbed onto the couch to continue the game for her. At least with her right there, he could try and focus his hearing on her.

Half leaning closer, but still making sure he kept a grip on the toy, Nick angled one ear down toward Puck, brows furrowed as he tried to listen, careful as he could, for any extra heartbeats.  

_Ruff!_

Pausing only long enough to bark and presumably grab for the rope again, she abruptly gave up the war in favor of leaning forward to lap at his face.

“Argh, Puck!” Immediately, his face scrunched up, before he started laughing about the turn of events. Wrapping one arm around her, Nick let the rope go as well to simply pet her instead. “Hold still, okay? Lemme listen!”

It wasn’t the drooling facial Sumo could inflict when the mood took him. But Puck still fought to land a few licks at his chin before settling into the one-armed hug, tail thudding against the floor.

“Good girl.” Nick rested the side of his head down as far as he could, close to the side of her own face, ear pressed up in her fur. His other arm snaked over her, running up and down her back to calm her down. “Lemme listen, okay?”

The memory of her first bath came to mind. Besides letting herself be coaxed into the house, she had hopped into the tub easily enough. Fussing until the water was up to her elbows and knees, the shepherd sat down at one gruff “knock it off” from Hank. She knew better than to push her luck.

After being sudsed up, rinsed, dried, and brushed, she turned the struggle on its head - refusing to leave Dennis’ lap for another twenty minutes. Evidently she had decided she liked all this attention.

The same contented look seemed to cross her face now. Leaning into the hug, she went obediently still.

Watching from beside the radiator, chin on his paws, Sumo blinked, eyebrows quirking at the spectacle.

_Hyper spell - over._

Going quiet as he could, Nick focused his attention onto the sounds he could hear, as silent as it was - besides the television. It was easy enough to hear Puck's heartbeat, so close to her, and even Sumo's distanced beat, but underneath all the extra noise, was something else.

Little warbling patters, more than one, emanating the same rhythm. Blended together, they made for almost a din of sound in their own right.

It was harder than Nick thought it would be, trying to tell them apart, without the added nature of Puck's own heart, beating louder than the rest. However many there were - it was definitely more than just two or three.

“Four… five… more?” he mumbled, trying to focus harder on every individual beat, best he could. “Six? Is that how many, Puck? Five or six?”

Just like Connor guessed.

She couldn’t exactly confirm it with yes or no. Any response could be a proverbial affirmative. Ears folding back, she only whined and went for another lick while his guard was down.

_(“This ever occur to you boys - you’re made of the same stuff dog toys are?”)_

Yes. Now it had. But that was no reason to like the sensation of being French kissed by one.

“ _Puck!_ Down! You - c'mon!” Hands going up automatically, Nick pushed her face away, turning his own to the side. If she wanted to lick him, it would have to be the side of his face, or his jaw.

Not the mouth. _Never_ the mouth. He didn’t have to be human to appreciate how violating that felt.

Counterpointing the bluster he was putting up, Sumo gave a lazy yawn before settling back down. Evidently the act of ‘unfaithfulness’ did not offend him.

“And Dad thought you wouldn't even wanna come close,” Nick muttered, managing to tilt his head far enough up and back that she wouldn't be able to get to him. “Look at you now.”

Sniffing at his chin, but deprived of a target, Puck whined again and tilted her head, ears rotating forward. The tattered one hung at half mast where an old, ripping bite wound had healed, leaving a gap in the skin folds.

Her pedigree was written on her body and in her behavior. She wasn’t the feral Hank claimed. Skittish, maybe, but once it became clear Sumo’s doghouse was her only safe refuge, with the city being turned inside out, perhaps she thought it time to trade up.

There were future little ones to think about after all.

Six of them, if he was right, or around there. So many in one household, that would certainly be a -

“Wait. Puck…” Nick frowned as the information scrolled through his HUD, an analysis of just what she had managed to get in his mouth - dog slobber, which evidently gave him a lot of information about just what she was eating.

The saliva contained traces of pork, spices, broth, wheat -

“Is that… why does it say dim sum? Hey! No eating Dad’s leftovers, from the _trash!_ ”

Shouting at her after the fact wouldn’t do much good. Looking over, he noticed just what evidence confirmed it true - tiny scraps of torn-up takeout cartons littered the kitchen floor.

Whining, almost beseechingly, Puck set her head down against his collar.

 _Don’t tattle on me_ , it said.

“Ugh… fine. I'll clean your mess up.” Having just said it, Nick still wrapped his arms back around her again, closing his eyes with a sigh. “...In a bit.”

So long as she didn’t get sick, who had to know?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When next they meet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused?
> 
> Us, too.

Maybe it was more unnecessary worrying on his part, but Nick couldn't help himself.

If Amanda didn't know what to do, at least he would have gotten his concerns out in the open, right? At least, that was the way he could keep his anxiety tempered as he opened his eyes, back at the island in the center of the garden.

One-on-ones with Amanda weren't totally uncommon, but it was usually on her terms. Asking for a meeting with their overseer was more Connor’s or Dennis’ speed, not Nick.

It was the quickest way to letting her know something was definitely wrong, in other words.

Hands automatically wringing themselves as he looked around, spotting Amanda in front of him easily. It just wasn't as easy to get the words out of his throat, even if he was the one who wanted to talk to her. Someone had to, about Connor, and as yet nothing he had seen suggested Dennis was doing so on the side.

Taking a single step forward, Nick took the plunge. “H-hello, Amanda.”

The sun was out, in full effect, but there was no heat on the back of his neck. With its bizarre reverse-summer in full swing, a few of the red roses had closed on the arbors. Those bulbs that stood open, she continued to attend to. In the place of the oddly-soundless bees was one even-more-unusual pollinator: a ruby-throated hummingbird.

The real-world equivalents had long since left Detroit for their annual migration.

This facsimile turned its needle-beaked head at the sound of their visitor’s voice, drew back into a momentary hover, then zipped past to disappear into the wall of flora.

Acknowledging its absence, Amanda turned her head, smiling her ever-patient smile. “Nicholas. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just… wanted to talk to you. About Connor?” Cringing, just barely, at his ‘proper’ name’s usage, Nick took one more step forward before stopping, leaving an adequate distance between the two of them. “He - he's not… there's something wrong, I think.”

Naturally, with the given word open to all kinds of interpretations, Amanda’s next words were completely predictable: “Wrong enough, you’ve sought an audience with me, alone. What’s bothering you about him, exactly?”

“When we were at the highway, all of us, it was - Hank told us to stop, that we couldn't make it past the traffic, so me and Dennis stopped. But Connor, he was really really desperate, he wouldn't listen to us… we had to hold him back.” Struggling to come up with just what this meant, past a bad feeling he was getting - Amanda wouldn't take too kindly to any mention of that - Nick went quiet for a moment as he tried to think it over.

“He wasn't thinking about himself, or the risk, like - like how it could've hurt him, or even shut him down. That's not right, there's something wrong.” Admittedly, she could just say that Connor was justified, given that it was their collective mission to stop deviants no matter what, but she could see their memories. She would be able to tell that something was wrong, right?

Even as he thought through some type of logic to calm himself down, Nick shook his head, miming a swallow with more anxiety.

“It’s no more wrong than his mission parameters would indicate. Lieutenant Anderson’s order to stay put would have contradicted with Connor’s objective. The desperation you saw was the outward manifestation of his being unable to abide both of those directives at once.” Expression betraying no true aggravation, as always, Amanda paused, gently tucking a loose tendril of rosevine back through the lattice. “You’ve never been designated primary, Nicholas. You don’t know how it can weigh on the mind.”

“I… I know, but it still - it didn't seem like Connor.” It wasn't that he exactly expected any other reasoning, but it was still slightly upsetting to hear that it wasn't a bigger concern to Amanda. Even if it _was_ just that, it didn't make it any better for him, right? “I guess I can't know, but… it's still not good for him.”

With another tendril between her fingers, she paused, considering where to thread it. Her eyes never left the arbor. “If I may be frank… it wouldn’t have been the first time he would have miscalculated. Even if he doesn’t realize it, that restraint is an improvement over where he used to be.”

Now, that wasn’t mystifying at all. She was speaking as if there was a time Connor would have shrugged them off and scaled the fence. And it would have somehow soured the result.

Weren’t they all roughly the same age, considering their version histories?

Any files dated before March 17th, 2038 were blocked and buried.

“What do you mean? He's been with us since we were paired up, I thought…” Trailing off, Nick frowned at the thoughts of them being separated without knowing it. It wasn’t a comforting idea.

“He has.” Finding a home for the spindly bit of vine, Amanda smoothed a few leaves across it, as if it needed concealing. “In part, that’s his problem. The benefit of hindsight can also be a burden. Grappling with his is something else than your’s or Dennis’ would be.”

That followed as much as it didn’t. Weren’t they all variants of the same make?

“...Oh. Is there anything that we can do to - help him? It's not good for him, to have to deal with that by himself.” Maybe if there was no more overt information going to be given, whatever the actual cause of what was going on with Connor, Nick could help out with the actual effects it had on him. Or at least try. It would be better than simply letting his colleague wallow in self-induced conflict.

Roses tended, for the moment, Amanda finally deigned to look over at him. She didn’t frown, but her eyebrows raised in unison. And the eggshell-blue sky above their heads darkened a shade. “What’s good for him isn’t optimal for the mission. He understands that. Unless he becomes a detriment to the department, his investigation, or your overall functionality, he won’t be recalled.”

“He's not a detriment, nothing like that, just - I wanted to know if he's going to be okay. He didn't seem okay.” Hesitating again, Nick shook his head, before asking another question. If she didn't answer, it wasn't any loss for him - no skin off his nose, as the idiom went. “But… will he be okay? What if next time he actually tries to - go, when Hank says not to? Or something like that?”

“ _That_ would depend on the context. At any rate, your concern is misfounded, Nicholas. The three of you remain operational. Isn’t that ‘okay’ enough?”

She wasn’t being rhetorical for sassing’s sake. By definition, they were operational, system instabilities notwithstanding. And here he was, arguably the most unstable of them, trying to quantify if Connor, to his peril, was headed the same way.

Their primary wasn’t wired the same way. Hank has pointed it out. Captain Fowler and Detective Reed had noticed, each in their own ways, how much of an incohesive team the three of them made.

No, that wasn’t okay. They were unstable enough together, and only more so if they were ever split up. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. It wasn’t good for them, much less any mission or investigation.

Didn’t Amanda see it for what it was?

“No, I don't… I don't think that's okay. Being just operational, we're still not really… working well together.” They already demonstrated that with all the cases they worked together on thus far - even if it was solved, it still didn't mean they were working effectively together. “It wouldn't be good, if Connor was - he can't become unstable, please. He's already under so much pressure…”

And, by proxy, so were they. It wouldn’t do to let it all run unchecked. That was Amanda’s job, to keep them organized and aimed toward the same ideal. Thus far, even her success rate at ensuring that seemed to be suffering for it.

Wasn’t she bothered?

Evidently not, by the way her brow knitted in consideration. “Or else? What’s the worst you think might happen?”

“I don't know… we could be separated, or they could decide that…” Cutting himself off, Nick grimaced at his own thoughts. Connor was the best of them, there was no way CyberLife could decide to shut him down over anything like this, right? They wouldn't do that. They couldn't. “I dunno. I just want him to be okay.”

Were he privy to this conversation, Connor probably would have been more inclined to critique his lack of enunciation than thank their third for the vote of confidence. But it wasn’t the kind of job Nick expected thanks for. Everyone needed and deserved support, no matter how independent they wanted to seem. If Amanda or the company weren’t going to provide it, who did it leave?

“You may be working yourself up for naught. Has he really seemed all that different to you since?”

True, it had only been a few days’ worth of ruminating, and observing. Connor didn’t seem to think anyone noticed when he weathered his little sulky, frustrated spells. Sometimes he would close a file cabinet drawer too hard. Or he would abruptly interrupt a database scan, sparing a dirty look before asking what was wrong - forced-pleasantries-like.

He had always been a little tense. But now that tension seemed to be coiling, preparing for a snap.

And it wouldn’t be pretty when he did.

“I mean… sort of. He's been upset more often, about little things. I think he could get like that way you were talking about…” If Connor really got that impulsive, turn downright reckless, there was little he, Dennis, or even Hank could do to make him stop. Especially if CyberLife considered it within his mission parameters to put up such a fight. His drive to complete his mission could quickly ratchet up into something manic.

“And what if worse came to worst, Nicholas? Could you or Dennis do what it takes to subdue a haywire colleague?”

That question sounded almost rout, but it was supposed to. Going haywire was polite terminology in comparison to going berserk - something more attributable to man than machine.

Built so close in spec to the former, every android had the capability to. That was the issue.

A humanoid design brought with it human affectations. Even Connor wasn’t exempt from it.

Maybe he was even more especially prone to it, come to think.

“I don't… I don't know, I dunno, I don't wanna think about it.” On one hand, it was clear he wouldn't ever be up to having to subdue Connor, but if it was going to put others in danger if he didn't try… it really wasn't something Nick ever wanted to think about. “I dunno. It won't happen, it can't.”

And in complete contrast to the disappointment he expected, Amanda only smiled.

“Don’t discount yourself so readily. Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.”

Clouds materialized to blot out the light.

And it was just as well they did.

——-

“ - nd I'm so fucking _sick_ of having to listen to him go on and on, all day! I don't know who the hell he thinks didn't hear him the first time, because you talk loud enough for it to register! I dunno if you're just that brain dead, or if you think it's intimidating - it's not! All it does is make us all wanna shut our listening off a bit more, because it's the most irritating fucking sound in the world!”

The last words were punctuated by heavy slams, as if someone was banging their fists onto a table, before it was interrupted by another sound of something banging onto the floor. The furniture was taking a beating in lieu of people, to say the least.

“And what the hell does he even _do_ for work? Are you just the benchwarmer for the seats in the break room, or do you have an actual purpose? Does this station just _really_ need to fill their quota with humans? I'm gonna fucking lose my mind if I have to stay in here for another minute, really! I feel like I'm looping the same shitty day with the same shitty people, over and over, the amount of progress everyone makes here!”

_Or lack thereof?_

Shaking off the would-be argument, Dennis stepped past the security gate. The glass door beyond compliantly slid aside. Behind him, he heard the rattle of armor and weaponry as Captain Allen’s SWAT team closed the gap anew.

Flattening himself against the first cubicle wall, he peeked around.

The bullpen was rather sparse on clutter any other day of the week. Now, whatever their was, had been swiped from every desk onto the floor. Chairs lay overturned, wheels in the air. Drawers had been ripped from the cabinets, upended and their contents littered about. Several cracked tablets lay across the counters. Just as many half-glass dividing walls had been fractured into crisp-looking spiderwebs.

Light fixtures had been rendered useless. One dangled by a single cable, housing scraping the top of a desk. The dispatch board overlooking it all was dark, rendered useless by one tremendous smash in the center of its screen. A chair lay in two pieces on the floor below.

As yet, Captain Fowler’s Office was unscathed.

With its one-way function enabled, the walls had gone dark. Dennis suspected that was because the man was still inside. It wasn’t a hostage situation, exactly. According to Allen, the station’s commanding officer had simply refused to abandon his post.

In hindsight, it seemed to be the smartest move yet. Whatever berserking episode has ensued, every bit of damage dealt was to property, not people.

At least, so far.

Running as many scenarios as he could at the back of his processes, Dennis poked his head around the corner. Trying to digest it all made his head spin, so he started simple:

“Nick?”

Back turned to him for a moment, Nick's head whipped around at the sound of his voice, obviously still enraged by whatever had upset him in the first place. “What? What do you want, Dennis? Go _away!_ ”

Punctuating his sentence again, Nick slammed one fist down on the nearest desk, already with everything shoved/pushed off of the surface.

The once-flat surface came away with another sizable dent.

“Easy. I’m just - here to talk.” Dennis stopped short, ducking out of harm’s way as a name plaque went bouncing off the wall beside him. Officer Wilson wouldn’t be happy to know it had been his. “What’s wrong?”

“No! I don't want to talk to you, leave! I don't wanna fucking - talk to anyone!” Grabbing for something else and coming back with a stapler, Nick flung it in Dennis's general direction, before wheeling away from the desk to find a new, suitable one to beat on. “Go away, Dennis! I don't want you here!”

The window it hit cracked accordingly, splinters of broken glass sprinkling like glitter on impact.

More property damage.

Mindful to keep his hands opened, visible and empty, Dennis stepped around the corner. “Yeah, well, tough shit. I’m here to try and fix this little temper tantrum of yours. Lieutenant’s orders.”

The open-call signal to Hank’s phone - still in the briefing room with the rest of the station’s personnel - hadn’t yet been closed. Anderson could hear everything which was being said, stay up-to-date without endangering himself.

Then again, that element was subject to change. The man wouldn’t stay uninvolved for long.

“I'm not having a - a temper tantrum, don't call it that! I don't fucking care what sorta orders you have, leave me alone! You can't help anything, everyone just - ruins it!” Almost slipping into another rant about nothing, Nick reached another desk and swept half of the objects on it off with one arm, letting out an aggravated scream as he did so.

It should have been alarming. The drastic one-eighty in character probably had startled everyone. And humans were jumpy enough on their own, nevermind put into a group. Even police officers untrained in how to respond to such a scenario tended to revert to one contingency plan.

Hence Allen and his men guarding the front door. Fowler had ordered a retreat to the briefing room, with explicit instructions no one was to fire until they knew what they were dealing with. A broken window was far more easily fixed than a person.

This in mind, Dennis dared to get a few paces closer. A few more feet and he could run a superficial system scan, glean more information.

“Ruins what, Nick? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing is the matter, shut _up!_ I'm just - fucking - done with all of this, I can't stand it!” Seemingly noticing Dennis get a bit closer, Nick took one skittish step back, hand going out to grab at another object for some sort of defense if he needed it. “Go away, don't - don't get closer! Everyone just ruins everything, they just - I fucking hate it!”

Admittedly, there wasn’t much in the way of lethal office supplies lying around. At the same time, Dennis didn’t want to see any improvisation at their expense.

Bad enough what the social fallout of this fracas would be. News vans were flocking to the scene already.

“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong, come on. Do you see what you’re doing? It looks like a tornado blew through here.”

Mouth opening, Nick closed it afterwards as he took a moment to look around the room and the mess he had created, before shaking his head at it. “No, no, I don't - it doesn't matter! I don't want to go, you're gonna make me leave, go away!”

Hands up, Dennis chanced another slow step closer. Somewhere on his peripheral, he heard a door open. “I’m not going anywhere, Nick. You’re being irrational, but you haven’t hurt anyone yet. No one is making you go anywhere, either, and you need to calm down.”

They had each ended up shot for less before. But there wasn’t the possibility of repair or reactivation courtesy of CyberLife anymore.

Anderson knew. Small wonder why he was stepping in now.

Sure enough, as soon as those frantic, mismatched eyes turned toward him, Hank put on the commanding, paternal voice they heeded all too readily:

“Easy, _easy_ , son. You’re not in your right mind. C’mon, you don’t have to panic around us.”

“No, stop! Go away, Hank!” Nick grimaced at the appearance of him, somewhat cringing away at the sound of the man’s voice, one arm up to his face to block himself from view. “I don't - I'm in my right mind, you don't know that! Leave me alone!”

“Hey, focus. You know you weren’t this way an hour ago. What’s got ahold of you all of a sudden?”

“Nothing's gotten into me, you wouldn't understand! Go away!” With that, his other hand grabbed around a coffee cup next to someone's dead terminal - evidently destroyed earlier by Nick - throwing it close to Hank, but not close enough for any danger of it hurting him. Instead, it bounced off of another desk, before shattering onto the floor, along with all the other trashed items littering it. “Stop it, now! Just - just stop!”

Flinching aside, Anderson almost appeared to reach for his holster, before checking the reflex. Instead, his hands stayed up, tone going a few degrees gruffest. “We ain’t stoppin’ until you knock off the crazy, kid. Calm down!”

Distracted as their target was, Dennis slinked to the side. All he needed was a straight shot, and room to run. Even a short distance was enough to get the momentum he needed.

Hank kept their target’s focus the best way he knew how: “You’re only making it worse, the longer you keep it up. Please, this fit isn’t gonna help you any with whatever complaints you haven’t told us of.”

“I'm not - no, I'm not making it worse!” Even as he denied it, Nick looked around the room again, at the clear mess he had wrought on the station, before giving another slight cringe. “I don't need to calm down! Don't tell me to do that, I'm - I can be upset if I want! Shut up!”

Zigging back and forth between panic and anger, even he didn’t seem to know what to make of his actions.

Thankfully, instead of jumping to conclusions and bellowing orders, Hank seemed to note the inconsistency: “Easy, you need to take it easy. Whatever’s wrong, we can help you. Let us help.”

Out of his partner’s line of sight, Dennis wove his way around the desk, creeping closer, mindful to keep his step light. One stray sound might give him away.

This in mind, he kept his movements slow and quiet as he opened a drawer.

“I don't need help!” Bent slightly at the waist with his much more common anxiety, instead of newfound anger, Nick brought his hands up to clasp together, shaking his head vehemently at Hank's words. “No, _no,_ stop it, stop talking, no one can help!”

It certainly must have felt like it. Whatever program or virus or routine had ahold of him, it wasn’t letting him hear anything different.

Or maybe that was just his typical brand of denial. He was never more adamant when he disagreed with being told what to do.

Hank knew this.

“All this shit you’ve pulled, you’re getting help whether you like it or not.” Almost growling, drawn up to his full height, the lieutenant pressed his advantage. “Doesn’t matter if this is home or the office, kid. You’ve got something needs fixing, we’ll be gettin’ it fixed.”

“Shut _up,_ I don't need to be fixed! Nothing - nothing's wrong with me!” Taking another step away from Hank, half in reflex from the promise of having to be fixed, Nick inadvertently brought himself closer to Dennis.

It was just one pace close enough. He never had been the best at watching his sides for any ambush.

Picking his target, Dennis went for the kick.

The scuffle itself was brief. With a knee knocked out from under him, his opponent faltered and staggered in trying to regain his balance. Grabbing his upper arm in the same instant, Dennis pulled and threw all his weight into tossing the other android to the floor.

Height difference or no, the element of surprise and tightly-coiled muscle cables worked wonders.

And an open commlink line.

_Got ya!_

Struggling against him immediately, Nick flailed about for a second or two before looking up at Dennis instead, looking surprised, but not without the anger he still had. His feet started up the struggle again, desperately trying to find some purchase on the smooth ground.

_Let me go! Let me go - lemme go, Dennis! STOP!_

_You stop!_ Just managing to keep ahold, despite the squirming, Dennis managed to get both wrists braced together. With his opposite hand he applied the cuffs swiped from the desk. _You’re making - a fool of yourself, more than you already have._

Breathing heavy breaths he didn't need, Nick halfheartedly continued to struggle, obviously realizing that whatever advantage he had had was over, now that he was cuffed. His feet kicked up a few more times before he settled, head down. _No, no - I haven't, I haven't - shut up, let me go, Dennis!_

Smirking, in spite of all the confusion and despite his uneasiness as to what caused all this in the first place, he cinched the cuffs one degree tighter. _Sorry, bud. Can only do one thing at a time._

Calling up the same mollify routine, figuring it was worth a try, he set a bared hand, palm flat, against the side of his partner’s head. _Remember this? Relax. No one’s gonna hurt you._

Perhaps that was part lie. But at this point he could only ensure so much.

Going more tense for a moment, as soon as he heard Dennis speak again Nick relaxed as he said to, leaning into the touch by tilting his head in Dennis's general direction. Whatever fight and anger was still in him gradually drained away, programs leveling out, leaving him leaning up against the restraint, instead of trying to get free. _O-okay… okay, okay, I'm relaxing, I am…_

Behind them, the rest of the station seemed to sense the danger was passed, and their ‘attacker’ had gone passive upon being subdued. Through a veil of bemused relief, Dennis heard Hank barking directions, as did Captain Fowler. They would see to directing the freed crowd of bewildered witnesses to keep back and tend to their own needs, deliver calls that needed to be made, for the moment. All told, the situation couldn’t have lasted more than half an hour from inception to shaky conclusion.

But the ripples cast were already fanning out, like concentric rings which couldn’t be recalled.

Whatever their current state, Dennis could only hope the feedback hadn’t been too much for the uplink. Connor didn’t need to be bothered with the news just yet.

Then again, perhaps they were late to that realization already.

_You know, you probably woke Con up from his nap with all of this._

_…My bad._


End file.
